


This Used To Be My Playground

by TehrBear



Series: A League of their Own [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Artist!Mickey, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible OOC characters, WIP, Warnings May Change, Writer!Ian, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehrBear/pseuds/TehrBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is good at two things; painting and avoiding his past.</p>
<p>Until Ian ruins one of those for him.</p>
<p>Sequel to Hiding in Plain Sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been beta'd so all mistakes are my own. If you find any grammar/spelling mistakes please do tell me.
> 
> I do not own the characters but I own all other elements of the story which is completely fictional and not to be taken seriously at all.
> 
> This is a WIP. I've put it in the tags as well so it's clear. I'm really not in a mental and physical state that will let me update regularly.

Summary of Hiding in Plain Sight:

Mickey, a runaway omega, is assigned to the alpha/beta dorm of his college instead of the omega one by accident but seems to get along with his alpha roommate, Ian, when pretending to belong. He misses a few of his heat suppressors and goes into heat at the worst of times, but Ian is helpful and understanding in the situation. Afterwards, they seem to show a bit of attraction towards each other that neither of them act on by Mickey's request, but Ian is not happy in seeing Tom, the alpha that Mickey spent his heat with, trying to become intimate with Mickey. Things go south when Ian reports Tom to the college board, resulting in an expulsion. However, eventually they are able to properly portray their feelings and they stop being idiots and finally fuck (yay!).

But *gasp* Mickey becomes unknowingly pregnant and only finds out when he has a violent miscarriage, caused by the fact that he wasn't mated to Ian at the time of conception. He chooses not to tell anyone, thinking that time will heal him, but nothing gets better, as one day, during an omega rights rally, Mickey's sister finds him to tell him that his father and brothers know where he is and it's only a matter of time before they find him and drag him back home. He flees the scene, leaving behind heartbroken friends, and an even more heartbroken Ian, none of whom know about his miscarriage nor his family issues.

 

Prologue:

Mickey's disappearance had shaken Ian to the core. To distract himself, he threw himself into his writing, and by the time he had finished his four years at college, he had already published two books and was doing publicity for his third. His first book, Hiding in Plain Sight, had been picked up for a movie and it was selling more copies by the second.

But none of that mattered because he hadn't heard a thing from, or about, Mickey, since that day at the rally. He couldn't find a single reason for Mickey wanting to leave. It just didn't make sense to him. It didn't make sense to anyone. But it had happened, and it had broken Ian's heart.

If Mickey wanted to leave, for whatever reason, he could have at least told Ian. He could have told him why he was going, where he was going, even just so Ian wouldn't worry about him. The fact that he didn't only made Ian think that _he_ was the reason Mickey left. But still, why wouldn't he just break up with him? Why did he leave college and leave all his things behind?

There was one scenario that Ian refused to consider. That Mickey hadn't left of his own accord. He didn't want to think that. It worried him more than just how Mickey survived on a day to day basis. Because if he had been taken, then that meant he was in a lot more trouble. It meant someone could be hurting him, and that didn't sit well with Ian at all.

Even though he had claimed to the college board, after Tom's attack, that he and Mickey were mates, they weren't actually, so he couldn't appeal to the police to get them to search for him. Mated omegas were more of a priority since they were considered to be their alpha or betas property. Unmated omegas weren't a concern at all, especially if there was more evidence to suggest that the omega in question was a runaway, than there was evidence that said they had been abducted.

Of course that's not what Ian thought. That's not what the other OAA members thought.

It turned out that Mickey was right, the rally hadn't changed anything. The group realized if they wanted change, they were going to have to raise hell. So that's what they started doing. Mary had been arrested more times than she could count. The college had been forced to expel some of the other activist members for getting into more trouble than they were worth. Ian worked passively. The social commentary in his books was praised left and right by critics everywhere.

But despite all of that, Mickey was wrong too. Their particular OAA had one of the largest social followings when his disappearance prompted all the members to start acting out. This had only encouraged other OAAs around the world, as well as other unaffiliated activist groups, to start doing the same. Soon, it seemed that the entire world would be on fire.

Alphas and betas would either need to start treating omega's as equals, or just restrict them to a point where they no longer had a voice. They had seemingly chosen the second option. There was already so few of them in the world, because of past genocides, and now it seemed the world was on the brink of yet another, which meant even fewer omegas. Any unmated omega caught rebelling was taken into custody and arranged for a mate as soon as possible. And any mated omega was at the mercy of their alpha or beta.

Fucking shit up for alphas and betas had only resulted in more rules and laws enforced for omegas, because now they were not only viewed as second class citizens but also as threats. They didn't have too many rights to begin with, and now they were on their way to having none. There was no winning.


	2. Hope is a waking dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's onto something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed I tagged this with OOC and that is because I've been extremely out of touch with the show as of late, but I really enjoyed writing the first part of this fic and had most of the second part planned. I apologize in advance if you don't like that the characters won't act exactly as the show would have them act, but be honest with yourself, do you really want that considering most of season 5?

This wasn't Mickey's first time pretending not to be an omega, of course, but it was incredibly difficult to keep up the act of being a beta when some of his clients kept eyeing him like a piece of meat. Of course, for alphas and betas to develop an attraction for each other was more common than for an alpha and omega to, as there aren't very many omegas in the world and alphas and betas are capable of procreating together. But Mickey tended to come off as an alpha courtesy of his temper and explosive personality. It didn't stop alphas from trying to take the chance in case he wasn't.

His clients sometimes offered him varying propositions. He usually didn't associate with those clients ever again. Sex instead of a proper commission wasn't an option. He could live without sex, not so much without money.

Nobody had ever come close to finding him out. It brought back memories of his days living in the alpha/beta dorm in college. He understood that it was easy for him to slip under the radar but he couldn't let that be a reason to let his guard down because if there was even the slightest chance that anyone, especially an alpha, had any reason to doubt what he had people believing, a little bit of digging could expose him. Omegas weren't allowed to work independently anymore the way he managed to by selling his artwork. They were slowly being removed from other jobs and places of education as well. Unless they had special permission from whoever was in charge of them through an omega services centre, ultimately, they had less rights than before, and laws were slowly returning to the way they had been before anyone had ever fought for equality.

In a world where the actions of everyone were instinct driven, mating and producing children seemed to be the sole purpose of most. Very few bothered to recognize the irony in that, as the people who were the best at initiating the satiety of these instincts were the ones most mistreated. But, luckily, Mickey hadn't been mistreated in that way in a while. Suppressants, artificial scents and artificial pheromones helped him hide his identity. A good connection he had made on his time alone had even managed to get him a fake birth certificate and ID so he could bury himself deeper underground.

And despite how much he wanted to, he never went back to anything from his past in terms of direct contact. He tried to refrain from thinking of any of it, so he wouldn't be tempted. Even then, however, he sometimes slipped. He told himself that he wasn't breaking the rules he'd set for himself by checking up on his friends. He was almost always disappointed by what he found. Most of his omega friends had either been taken into custody, auctioned off to the highest bidder, waiting to be picked by a mate they never wanted, or on the brink of it. There wasn't even a record of some.

The only person doing extremely well was Ian. With two books out and a third on the way, Mickey assumed that there was nothing that Ian could ever have a want for in life, because he had every means to get it. Of course, that was because he was an alpha.

Mickey was walking to his apartment one evening, in the pouring rain, after a particularly good day at the gallery he often auctioned his work at. He had sold almost all his paintings this time (what he didn't sell, he left at the gallery due to the horrid weather), and he was especially proud since the theme of the art show this month had been one that came to him with great difficulty: hope.

But his mood was altered fairly quickly. The small public library near his building had a poster with a very familiar face. He swallowed the burning sensation building in his chest and rising up his throat and kept walking.

\----

Ian wasn't sure why decorating his apartment was so important, but according to Mary it looked like a jail cell and needed to be brightened up, and that’s why he let himself be dragged around town to several furniture and interior design stores.

The rain didn't help his already sour mood, but his bad attitude towards the shopping spree didn't have anything to do with shopping itself. It had more to do with the progress on his book. It had been due to submit to the editor for a while now but he kept missing deadlines. It was different from the other two. It explored things he hadn't bothered with himself for a while and he was stuck. So his editor pushed the date of the release to the next year and told Ian to take his time. But it only made Ian want to work on it less. He knew his editor had no doubts about whether he'd complete it or not (the beta woman put too much trust into him) but he didn't have too much faith in himself. He'd run out of inspiration and he felt lost.

Mary convinced him that not thinking about it and coming back to it in a while with a fresh mind and better attitude would help, and a bright apartment might not hurt when it comes to the attitude. She believed that positivity was contagious and one could catch it from their surroundings. Ian couldn't help but disagree. Positivity made him want to hurl these days.

"I don't think I have enough space for all of this stuff." That was the truth. A one bedroom apartment can only be so big.

"Don't be silly," Mary told him. "We'll find a way to fit it all. Now we just need some stuff for the walls."

"No," he said. "No art."

"You can't swear off of art just because your ex's weapon of choice was a paintbrush."

 _How can she say that?_ "How can you say that?"

"Just like I did," she replied. "By opening my mouth and letting the sound come out. He is just an ex Ian."

"He was your friend. We practically started a revolution because of him and we still don't know where he is. _If_ he even... is."

"He was a catalyst in a way, yes, but we rebelled for all omegas. Not just one. And having all these unanswered questions about him—not knowing—Is all the more reason you should honour him," she shoved him roughly through the doors of the gallery, "by buying at least one damn painting for your boring walls."

The gallery was mostly empty. A middle aged lady named Sheila, supposedly the gallery owner, told them that the art show itself was over and all the artists had left but a lot of them had left their work behind and everything was still for sale. Any prospective buyers could contact the artist directly or the gallery would notify them.

Ian was drawn into his surroundings immediately. Spending a year with Mickey had given him enough intel about art to recognize certain styles Mickey had shown him or talked about even if he couldn't recall the terms Mickey had used.

Deep in the gallery, one wall, with two very distinctly different paintings, caught Ian's attention. One was extremely hyper realistic. A flower blooming through cracked pavement. It looked like it could be a photograph. Ian could see tiny veins in the petals and could almost make out the dirt on the pavement. The second was rather strange.  A humanoid form with a hole where it's heart should be. Peeking out from the hole was a dove. To him, it was conveying a sense of peace within. The figure had its hand covering its face and the whole aura of the painting made Ian uncomfortable, intrigued and oddly happy. He was smiling. But when he looked at the bottom right hand corner of both paintings, he didn't recognize the signature. He was sure that it was a mistake. The paintings triggered memories of that year so vividly that it was impossible that they didn't have something to do with Mickey.

His suspicions were raised when, after he expressed his interest in the paintings, Sheila told him that the artist preferred not to have his contact information given out. The artist was supposedly to meet other prospective buyers the next day and Ian would have to wait until then to find out what he wanted to know.

But on the lonely walk back to his apartment (Mary had been picked up by her husband) he couldn't help but wonder if he even wanted to know why the paintings affected him the way they did. He couldn't help but wonder, if Mickey was really somehow connected to them (though he had his doubts, why wouldn't Mickey use his real signature? was his work being stolen?) would he even want to see him? Would Mickey even want anything to do with him? If Mickey was alive and well and somehow under the radar of the people who hunted down omegas, he left for a reason, right? Why would he want his past to come back and haunt him?

Ian was still contemplating all of this when he made his way to the gallery the next morning. He didn't know if he really wanted to do this but at the same time, if he didn't, and the opportunity slipped away—the opportunity of finally finding out what happened and getting some semblance of closure—he wouldn't know what to do with himself. But maybe closure wasn't the right thing. Maybe if he found what he wanted to know, he'd wish that he hadn't.  Nevertheless if he came back without artwork for his walls, Mary might bite his head off.

So that's how he ended up back at the gallery. As soon as he walked in he was approached by the gallery owner.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "The two paintings you were interested were just sold."

"Oh," he said in reply, contemplating the choices he had. "Is there anyways I could maybe talk to the artist?"

"Of course! He should be around here somewhere..." she looks around for a second. "Oh, I think that's him heading out the door now!"

Ian turned to just barely catch a glimpse of a man in grey sweatpants, a white hoodie and with unmistakable black hair, disappear the way he had come in.

"Thank you," he mumbled quickly, already on his way to the door. "I'll catch up with him."

It could be anyone. Lots of people had black hair. Lots of people dressed like they didn't care what others thought. Lots of people walked with that kind of confidence that was likely a facade. It didn't have to be Mickey.

And truthfully Ian wasn't really interested in the paintings themselves so he chose to stay behind and follow the head of black hair for several blocks. He had to admit, he'd never done anything like this before, and he didn't like it. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of the man's face but he wouldn't turn even slightly.

After around ten minutes, when Ian was sure he no longer had any idea where he was anymore, the man stopped. It took Ian by surprise and several people ran into him when he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk too. The man put his hood up, effectively hiding his face, as wind grew strong. He was looking at something through the window of a large building. He stayed there for a minute just staring before abruptly returning to his stride the way he was going before.

Once the man had moved on (which took Ian by surprise as well) Ian moved fast to catch up. He passed by the building the man had halted in front of, seemingly a library and peeked for a second to see if he could catch a glimpse of what the man might have been looking at. But he came to face his own face. And it wasn't a reflection in the glass. The man had stopped to look at a promotional poster for Ian's book.

Ian turned to see him only a little bit further away, standing in a doorway of a rundown apartment building and rummaging his pockets for what Ian could only presume to be keys. The wind blew off his hood. Ian watched him for a few seconds before he turned around walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some touchy subjects in this story but do tell me if you have any specific triggers having to do with any of the content you've already read that you'd like me to mention in the notes before every chapter. You can do it here or drop a message in my ask box on tumblr: jahanpanah.tumblr.com. Whichever makes you more comfortable.


	3. Content?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth isn't always the best, if it even is the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited and posted from my phone so there are likely to be some formatting errors. Sorry.

A few weeks later, Mickey—having borrowed the gallery owners truck—filled it up with artwork that hadn't been sold during previous shows. Every few months, Sheila would have one of the show rooms filled with old artwork because there were always different kinds of people coming in at all times that were looking for a variety of things. Once the room started looking empty, artists would bring in more unsold stuff.

 

He drove the truck to the back of the gallery building and started unloading.

 

It was exhausting work. His suppressants had been making him feel a little weird lately. Hormonal almost with back aches and nausea and the like, which he shouldn't at all be feeling if they were working the way they were supposed to. He was afraid he might be starting to build up a tolerance to them, but it could just be the deplorable quality of the drugs since he was obtaining them in questionable ways.

 

Nevertheless, it was the last thing he needed right now.

 

He was struggling with a particularly large canvas when someone behind him offered their help.

 

"Need a hand?"

 

"Yeah," Mickey said, turning his head slightly. "Thanks—"

 

When he saw that the person behind him was one he didn't ever think he'd meet again, he almost dropped the canvas. But he recovered from his initial shock fairly quickly.

 

"Actually, I got it."

 

Ian shook his head and went around to pick up the painting from the other side.

 

"I don't mind," he said.

 

Mickey almost considered dropping his side of the painting, but he'd worked hard on it and he wasn't that petty (and he was pretty sure he had nothing to be petty about in the first place). So instead he just said: "I do."

 

\----

 

But Ian still helped him carry it anyways. He put his end down gently next to Mickey's other paintings. He took a moment to admire them and used it as an excuse to wait for Mickey to say something to him. But Mickey was quiet. He worked fast to hang the artwork in his section with Ian watching and not offering to help this time. Mickey didn't look at him, or acknowledge his existence in anyway. It amused Ian and pissed him off too. It was amusing because Mickey hadn't really changed. He was still the one of the two of them that was pretending to be wronged so he had a reason to act angry. Even though in this situation Ian believed he had been wronged, not Mickey, and that's the part that pissed him off.

 

So maybe Mickey really didn't want to see him right now. But what Mickey's wants didn't really concern Ian because now that he had a chance to find out the truth about why Mickey had left him—and everyone else—hanging, pulling a disappearing act fit for the history books and making everyone think something horrible had happened to him, he wasn't going to let it slide. He wasn't so sure something horrible hadn't happened, but Mickey was in one piece, and Ian was going to get the truth out of him one way or another, no matter how long it took.

 

At first he didn't even think he wanted to know what really happened, but now there was nothing else he wanted.

 

Once Mickey was done and heading out of the gallery, Ian took his chance.

 

"I want to talk."

 

Mickey pretended not to hear him. He dropped off a bunch of keys at Sheila's desk on his way out. Ian followed, closely this time.

 

\----

 

"I'm serious," Ian said. He hadn't stopped following (and nagging) Mickey for a few blocks now. "I want an explanation. I _deserve_ an explanation."

 

"I don't have anything to say," Mickey replied, looking straight ahead. "Nothing I tell you will make you feel better anyways."

 

"That's not the point. The point is that you owe this to me if nothing else."

 

Mickey stopped walking. Ian almost ran into him but stopped himself in time. Mickey turned to face him and looked him in the eyes.

 

"I don't owe anyone anything. It was my choice to leave. It was not your concern, or anyone else's."

 

"You left all of your stuff behind! Who does that Mickey? Who just takes off without telling a single soul?"

 

He was taken aback by hearing Ian say his name.  It had been such a long time but it still sounded the same. He just wished that it was said with less frustration. But he supposed that was his fault. He couldn't let Ian know how affected he was of course.

 

"It's not my fault that you can't handle a break up," he snapped. He tried to turn and continue on his way but Ian grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him in the small alley they were standing in front of. Ian pinned him to the wall, surprising him, because he'd rarely seen this side of Ian.

 

"This wasn't a break up, Mickey. Break ups require some sort of communication. This was you running and I'm not sure why or from who or what. But I am sure that you were afraid of something. I had my doubts before but I came to a realization that day I saw you looking at that poster for my book. You couldn't have left because of me. If you had, you wouldn't have said all those things to me the night before the rally."

 

 _The night before the rally?_ Mickey tried to recall the memories of all those years ago, but all he could remember from the night before the rally was feeling horrid and having a couple of drinks to help him sleep better. Had Ian even been there? And for how long had he been following Mickey to know he was in this city and taking peeks at the poster outside the library?

 

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

 

"I know you don't remember, " Ian said, smirking. "But I do. You were drunk off your ass when you snuck into my room. It's not a surprise that you can't remember much."

 

Mickey did remember waking up in Ian's dorm the next day. He hadn't questioned it then, since it wasn't usual for him to end up there in the middle of the night half asleep and uncoordinated. _Did I end up saying something stupid?_

 

"Let go of me."

 

"I'm not going to until I know I'm gonna get answers."

 

"Fine. You'll get answers. Just let go." Mickey tried to push Ian off but Ian only pinned him back with a firmer grip. 

 

" _Truthful_ answers. Not backwash excuses."

 

"Yeah, truthful, whatever. Get off."

 

Ian let him go with a smile and watched him straighten his hoodie. "Let me buy you lunch."

 

"No fucking way."

 

"Okay... how about I phrase it in a way where you don't think you have a choice. I'm buying you lunch."

 

"I'm busy."

 

"Whatever you have planned, I'm sure it can wait."

 

"As much as I'd like to be your arm candy for old times sake, I have somewhere to be."

 

"Fine, I'll pick you up for dinner then."

 

"That's even worse, man."

 

"Pick a meal, Mickey."

 

Mickey thought it over a second, leaning back against the cold alley wall. Ian may have let him go, but he hadn't stepped back. His breath smelled like spearmint and something else, cigarettes maybe. But the most distracting was the smell of apples and cinnamon—like Christmas almost—radiating off of him. The same scent he'd caught in the dorm during orientation week all those years ago,  the one that had been imprinted in his brain the second Ian had barged in with his brother. He took a moment to take it in, get his fill without having to bury his nose into Ian's neck and outright sniff him. Once he thought he could function again, he actually began thinking. Dinner really was too much. They'd never done dinner even when they had been going out, so that was completely out of the question.

 

Ian seemed to read his expression of defeat. "So, lunch then?"

 

"Whatever, you win." Ian nudged Mickey back towards the sidewalk.

 

"It wasn't a competition, Mickey."

 

"Okay, stop. Stop doing that."

 

"Doing what Mickey?"

 

"That! Saying my name every minute. It's fucking annoying."

 

"The fuck else am I supposed to call you, _Mickey_." Mickey rammed Ian with his shoulder but the guy was built like a wall. It hurt too, but Mickey wasn't gonna rub his shoulder while Ian was practically doubled over laughing at him. So he kept walking. He wasn't even sure where Ian wanted to take him. Hopefully nowhere fancy now that he was such a well off writer. But after the initial shock of seeing him had worn off completely, he couldn't tell whether he was ready to sit across from Ian and consume food at all, whether it was somewhere fancy or somewhere he was more comfortable. He might just not be able to keep anything down.

 

And he definitely didn't want to tell Ian the truth about why he left. If he remembered anything about Ian it was his uncanny ability to try and right wrongs when there was nothing that could be done (he also remembered a lot of _other_ things about Ian but that was another matter entirely). If he told Ian that he ran away to hide from his family, and now he was hiding from the people who had the power to take him back to his family, Ian would do everything he could to make sure that no one would touch Mickey. But Mickey had accepted long ago that there was gonna be a time where he was going to be found out, Ian couldn't stop that from happening. Mickey wasn't his omega, so Ian had no say over what happens to him.

 

He didn't exactly _like_ the idea of Ian thinking that Mickey hated him and having Ian think that was why he left would be completely unfair, but apparently he'd gotten too drunk and said some stupid things he couldn't remember that made Ian think otherwise so he couldn't go that way. Maybe he should make up a story about how he was kidnapped and how he escaped but it was too late to try and go back so he stayed where he was. Yeah... that would work.

 

\----

 

"Cut the shit, Mickey. You're wasting my time." Ian couldn't believe how bad of a liar Mickey was. His kidnapping story wasn't even the slightest bit convincing.

 

"I swear!" Mickey replied, shoving a bunch of fries in his mouth. His next few words were a garbled mess.

 

"What?"

 

"I said," Mickey swallowed. "I had them begging for mercy before I escaped."

 

"Just tell me the truth. This will be over sooner that way."

 

"You know, this can be over even sooner."

 

"How?"

 

"You can opt out of knowing and forget you ever saw me."

 

"I'd rather listen to your unnecessary stories."

 

"Please Ian, this is ridiculous. It's not as big of a deal as you're making it out to be." Mickey was getting visibly frustrated. Ian could tell because Mickey has put his burger down and not because he wanted more fries or a sip of his drink.

 

"It is a big deal to me."

 

Mickey frowned. "Fine. You wanna know why I left? I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand being around all of you. I was out of place and I hated it. So I left. I probably wasn't gonna graduate anyways, I just barely made it out of high school and I got lucky that my art portfolio was good enough to get me into college. But it wasn't for me. OAA wasn't for me. Those _friends_ I'd made weren't for me. And you weren't for me. I couldn't handle it, okay? I just couldn't.  And I thought _why bother?_ There was nothing keeping me Ian. I don't know what I said to you the night before the rally but I sure as hell didn't mean it."

 

\----

 

The silence after Mickey's rant wasn't much of a silence at all. The diner they were at was quite full so it kept the void between them from swallowing them up. Mickey hadn't been so close to Ian in so long yet he'd never felt so _far_. The words just came out of nowhere and though they didn't have much truth to them, the blank expression on Ian's face and the fact that he hadn't called Mickey out was enough evidence that Ian may just believe him.

 

"You didn't say anything," Ian said after what felt like years.

 

"What?"

 

"The night before the rally," Ian rubbed his face with his hands, looking like he'd just aged ten years, "you were kinda drunk, more so sleepy I think, but you didn't say anything. I made that up, thinking you'd confess if I did. And... I guess it worked."

 

"You content now?"

 

Ian laughed, but it was humourless. "I don't think that's the word for it."

 

Neither of them could eat anymore. Ian paid and they exited the diner. They faced each other once they were outside.

 

"I'm sorry I made you feel so out of place, Mickey."

 

"Ian I—"

 

"Just know that everyone missed you. A lot."

 

Mickey nodded. He didn't know what to say anymore after saying so much. All he knew was that he was starting to regret saying anything at all.

 

He also didn't know what it was that kept him from calling Ian back as the head of red hair disappeared into the crowd.

 

Maybe it was pride.

 

No. He was beyond that now.

 

Maybe there was truth in what he had said.

 

No. He was too sure that if he had had a choice, it wouldn't have been to leave.

 

Maybe he was afraid that if he let himself get too close, and ended up having to cut off ties and leave again, he wouldn't be able to do it.

 

Yeah. He couldn't handle that all over again. But he couldn't go back to his father either, nor could he let himself be forced with some random alpha who probably thought of omegas as nothing more than items, trophies to be won. Or he could even be forced into a harem, if he got too involved with the wrong sort of crowd.

 

And being around Ian could garner that kind of attention.

 

It was only a matter of time before people started suspecting him, and he couldn't let himself become too comfortable, or too attached, with anything in his life right now, though the temptation was killing him. He never knew if he would have to take off in a moments notice again and leave everything behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's excited about more of Cameron on Gotham? I know I am :)
> 
> (I haven't actually seen season 2 yet so keep your spoilers to yourself pls and thanks.)


	4. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian let's Mickey know what he's thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, unedited, posted from my phone, I'll fix any errors when I get the chance.

"You should settle down Ian. It'll be good for you." It was easy for Lip to say. He apparently had a beta so perfect for him that it was hard to deny that soul mates exist—according to his other siblings anyways. He didn't know who this beta was. Supposedly someone who went to high school with them but he hadn't bothered asking for a name. He was too wrapped up in his own mess.

 

But of course Lip just had the audacity to tell Ian to just "settle down" as if he had any idea what would be "good for [him]". Lip was only trying to be helpful, Ian knew that, but it wasn't any help that he'd asked for, so it was just annoying. 

 

"You're stuck on your book because it's supposed to have a more romantic arc than the other two aren't you? Maybe some inspiration will help."

 

Ian sighed. "What do you suggest I do?"

 

"Spark up some romance into your own life man. Or at least get laid."

 

"That's some profound knowledge you've got right there."

 

"You know what? Why don't you do it the old fashioned way, huh? Go out, find someone hot, ask them if they wanna get coffee, and then boom! Sex."

 

"Is that what you think the old fashioned way is?"

 

"Just try it."

 

"Maybe I'll try something else first. And once I've exhausted all of my options, I'll try it your way."

 

"Whatever you say bro. Listen, I gotta go. But I'm serious about you getting a little action so you're not always so fucking uptight."

 

After they hung up, he tried to sit in front of his computer and get to writing, but nothing came to him. Then he tried pencil and paper. It wasn't any better. He moved around his furniture a bit, there was so much of it since Mary had no qualms about spending his money. He thought the little bit of physical stimulation would help his mind but it didn't work.

 

He didn't understand. Mickey had to be lying. There was no way that he left because he got sick of Ian. He wasn't really willing to accept it, but when Mickey had said it to him, he didn't know how to react and practically ran away.

 

He couldn't think of anything that would make Mickey confess to his lie (and the more he thought about it, was it a lie?), but he decided he was determined to find a way. What else could he do? He definitely couldn't write anymore and he could barely function as a person anyways so what could go wrong? He might get his heart broken—again—but it couldn't get much worse than it already was.

 

Soon after this decision, he found himself pacing outside of the building he'd seen Mickey go into the first time he saw the omega after his disappearance. It was very clearly an apartment building. Eventually, he gathered enough courage to go up to the buzzer, but the labels with the names next to the buttons were all faded up. Well, he might as well try them all.

 

The first one took a long time to be answered. He was starting to think no one was home, but then a frail sounding voice, likely a very old man started yelling at him about how the building had a no solicitors policy. The next one had a tired voice and several yelling children in the background. A few no answers later, there was one where he was greeted with heavy breathing. Just heavy breathing. He quickly moved on. Several more no answers and dead ends and he was starting to think that the universe had something against him, until he finally hit the jackpot.

 

"Hello?"

 

Ian couldn't answer. What would he even say? Mickey probably wouldn't let him up anyways.

 

"Listen creep, you've got the wrong buzzer. Don't press this one again."

 

A tone signalled that Mickey had hung up. Ian realized that this time, he was the weird heavy breather. Someone came out of the building and he had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the door. He could have just caught the door before it closed and tracked down Mickey's apartment but that would have been a little much. Instead he turned to leave, having admitted defeat to himself on his own mission. But something stopped him. There should have been some sound that signalled the door had locked when it closed. Ian went back up to the door and tried to turn the handle. It wouldn't budge, but when he pulled it, it opened. The lock had practically been torn out. He couldn't believe Mickey was living in a place with absolutely no security.

 

The apartment numbers next to the buzzers were faded just like the names but the floor numbers weren't.  Ian noted the one next to Mickey's buzzer and made his way inside to the elevator. One look at that and he decided to take the stairs. Only five flights anyways, no big deal.

 

Well it turned out to be a pretty big deal. He'd never healed enough from his rugby injury to be able to play for the college again and as a result he'd pretty much dropped most of the cardio from his workout regiment. He'd also picked up excessive smoking, since it seemed like something writers did. Five flights nearly killed him.

 

He was still breathing hard when he knocked on the first door. A lady answered and slammed the door in his face almost immediately. He went onto the next one, his breath still caught in his throat. No one opened the door this time. He was feeling a little better by the third, but not so much when Mickey opened the door and rolled his eyes. He hadn't thought about what he'd do or say when he got this far.

 

"Are you kidding me? Don't tell me. You're the one who pressed my buzzer and didn't say anything like a freak."

 

Ian, again, chose not to say anything. (He was still breathing pretty hard anyways).

 

"You coming in or what?"

 

Ian nodded and stepped through the narrow doorway into the equally narrow hallway. Mickey had to practically pin him to the wall to be able to close the door and let him in properly. The rest of the apartment seemed more open. Mickey had a lot of canvases splayed out but his furniture was minimal. There was a small coffee table with an ashtray that was filled to the brim.

 

"You took up smoking?"

 

"Yeah. Heard it was something artists do."

 

Ian smiled.

 

"Is that all you wanted? Will you leave now?"

 

Ian frowned. "Don't be rude, Mickey. I'm your guest."

 

That earned him another eye roll.

 

"The front door of this building," Ian started, "the lock is busted."

 

"Yeah there was a robbery a couple of days ago. Didn't get farther than the first floor. Some old man beat the shit outta them."

 

A robbery, that would explain the broken lock. Especially since he clearly remembered Mickey using keys that first day. _Wait_ , he thought. _A robbery?!_

 

"Please tell me your landlord plans on getting it fixed."

 

Mickey snorted. "Don't see why he would. The side door and back door don't lock anyways, locking the front door won't make this place anymore livable. Makes me wonder, why didn't the robbers use the doors that were already broken?"

 

"We'll you're gonna look for another place to stay, right?"

 

He got a look of disbelief. "Why would I do that? Do you know how cheap the rent is? If I go somewhere with even minimal security they're gonna charge me a fortune."

 

"Mickey—"

 

"Why does it even matter to you? Why the fuck are you even here? To remind me that leaving made my life turn to shit? That I made the wrong choice? I left for my own reasons and you have nothing to do with them so leave me—"

 

Mickey stopped himself. Ian caught on quickly.

 

"You said one of the reasons you left was because you couldn't deal with me anymore." Ian grinned. "I knew you were lying!"

 

"Shut up. Get out."

 

"You promised me a truthful answer."

 

"I didn't promise you shit! Why are you smiling like an idiot? Get out."

 

"I'm smiling because I thought you _hated_ me." Mickeys face fell a little. "Now that I know you don't.  I can keep nagging you without feeling too bad about it."

 

"You should feel bad. I'm not joking. I _can't_ deal with you being here."

 

"Why? Does it bring back memories?" Ian walked closer to him. Mickey didn't back away. "I can only imagine it would be the good ones. We don't have too many that were bad."

 

Mickey turned his face away slightly as Ian came even closer. Close enough to feel Mickey radiating heat. Omegas did have a higher body temperature than alphas and betas. Higher so, if they were excited in any way. Ian would give anything to know what Mickey was thinking in that moment. There was a way to find out, but it might take things too far. He had to tread carefully.

 

"I can't tell you the real reason I had to leave," Mickey said. "I _won't_. So stop trying to get it out of me."

 

"Fine. I'll stop asking." Their voices were barely whispers. They were so close they didn't have to waste too much breath. "But if the reason has nothing to do with me, will you not at least admit that you owe me?"

 

Mickey pushed him away. "Seriously?  I told you before, I don't owe anyone anything!"

 

"You _do_." They were both raising their voices now.  Ian had been holding back years of anger, and he couldn't anymore. "You owe me because you left me hanging. You didn't tell me anything, you didn't leave a fucking note, or ever call to let me know you were still _alive_. And I'm fucking pissed! I've been spending the past few years alternating between believing you were dead, being worried sick all the fucking time, and wanting to kill you myself for breaking my fucking heart. _Did you ever stop to think how your little disappearing act would affect the people who care about you?_ "

 

\----

 

Just a minute ago, Mickey had been hoping with all his heart that Ian would close the centimetre of distance between their mouths and light the spark all over again. It was completely different to how he'd been feeling ever since Ian had jumped back into his life, seemingly head first into the shallow end. He didn't want anything to do with Ian—he thought he'd get too attached too quickly and have to hurt Ian again if he ever had to leave once more. But in that moment he didn't care. He felt as if Ian wouldn't ever give him a reason to need to leave. Ian would expel all the troubles of being on the run from his life. It was so tempting. But then Ian starting talking shit and it broke the spell.

 

Mickey's 'I don't owe anyone shit' attitude may have gotten out of hand this time, because as Ian spoke, he realized that he did owe Ian. He owed Ian a lot. For making him feel so safe and wanted that one year they managed to have together. For building up the confidence his father had broken in him so he would no longer have to put up a front. For just always being there and never being judgemental. For taking care of him when he had been sick, even if Mickey had never had the guts to tell him _why_ he'd been sick in the first place. He owed Ian especially big for that.

 

And then Mickey realized that Ian was mad. Like super angry. He hadn't noticed it before, apparently Ian was good at keeping his temper in check, but if all his rage and frustration and _heartbreak_ was clear as day on his face now. Mickey had hurt him.

 

Mickey owed him.

 

But what could he do? He had nothing he could give Ian. Nothing tangible at least, not that it was something materialistic that Ian would even want. He could tell the truth. Knowing the real reason for his disappearance might make him hurt less. But Mickey himself didn't think he really had the guts to talk about it. He could try, but it might just make Ian feel worse. Mickey had a feeling he'd be at a loss for words and that might make Ian think he was trying to come up with an excuse. What good would that do? He was drawing a blank.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Ian narrowed his eyes. "You're _sorry_?"

 

Mickey nodded, knowing that it might not have been the best thing to say, but it was the only thing he could think of.

 

"You're sorry," Ian repeated, more to himself and seemingly out of frustration. He looked like he had at the diner. Like he was ready to blow up or cry or... both. Saying that he looked upset would be an extreme understatement.

 

"I really am." _Just shut the fuck up Mickey_ , he scolded himself.

 

"You should look for another place to stay." Ian said before he left.

 

\----

 

It had been a bad idea. If he hadn't gone to find Mickey he wouldn't have have blown up about it. He'd told himself that it was the last thing he'd wanted to do. Yet it was exactly what he did. It did make him feel better. At least he could think a little clearer without all the pent up frustrations. 

That was clearly the case, he found, when he was able to sit at his computer the whole night, and do something he hadn't been able to for a long time: write.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't get used to the quick updates but I'm glad some of you are still around!


	5. Ian's still mad probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time Mickey cock blocks himself in the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about any errors. Enjoy!

Mickey felt horrible. He'd managed to find new suppressants but they weren't any better than the last. If anything, they were worse. They gave him migraines and increased his nausea to a point where there were times that he couldn't leave his spot beside the toilet bowl for hours. That in turn only dehydrated him but even water was difficult to keep down, food was completely out of the question.

 

He couldn't go to a hospital. Things had changed a lot since the last time he had. They wouldn't just treat him and send him on his way, they would keep him until they could get into contact with his alpha or beta counterpart, and when they realized there wasn't one, they'd contact the authorities. So he had to wait this out. He had no other choice.

 

He didn't know how many days has passed when he heard a door opening. That was strange. Was he opening a door? He wasn't entirely sure but he thought he was lying down. He couldn't really tell anymore. Maybe he was getting robbed. Maybe whoever was robbing him would be kind enough to put him out of his misery.

 

"Does your apartment door not lock either? Seriously Mickey you gotta find another— Shit. You don't look so hot."

 

Mickey didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to. "Why are you here?"

 

"Sheila said you hadn't shown up at the gallery in a while," he felt the mattress dip down to his left and a cold hand grazed his forehead, "I came to see whether you'd run off again."

 

Mickey leaned into the touch instinctively and groaned.

 

"What happened?"

 

"Nothing. It's probably a seasonal thing." What good would it do to tell the truth? Ian couldn't fix him.

 

"Doesn't look like a seasonal thing. You'd have a stuffy nose and a sore throat but you sound fine and I don't see any tissues lying around."

 

He opened his eyes to find Ian's worried face staring down at him. Okay maybe he could tell the truth in this department. "It's my suppressants. They're not exactly grade A quality. My body's not accepting them the way it should."

 

Ian frowned. "Is there anyway to fix that?"

 

"Go to a doctor. Get proper ones instead of ones from back alley deals. But that's not gonna happen."

 

"Why not? You used to get them from omega services before, right? They could get you consultation from a doctor who treats omegas too."

 

Mickey shook his head and regretted it. His migraine, which had seemingly taken then back seat for a while, returned with a vengeance. "You need alpha or beta approval. Besides, if I let anyone know I'm an omega they're gonna ship me back to my father. My fake documentation unfortunately isn't that good."

 

Ian nodded, as if he'd already guessed that Mickey would hide the fact that he was an omega. He wasn't blind to what was happening in the world even if he wasn't actively involved. "Okay. I'll figure it out."

 

He got up and left as Mickey called out to him. "What? Ian don't do anything. You'll only make things worse."

 

But it was too late. He heard the door slam shut and he was left alone.

 

\----

 

A few hours later (or maybe only minutes, he really couldn't be sure), Mickey heard the door open again. He hadn't even moved. Ian came back with a couple of bags in hand and a girl that looked an awful lot like him, or maybe it was just the red hair that caused the similarity. But he was sure that the girl looked familiar in more than one way. She chatted with Ian pleasantly while she checked Mickey over. When she did talk to him, he could only reply in mumbles. It was amazing how much energy he'd burned in just one conversation with Ian earlier in the day. And all this poking and prodding wasn't any better.

 

"I don't know what was in those suppressants that you were taking," she told him, "but you need to stop taking them immediately."

 

"He'll be okay though, right Debs? I mean, he looks like hell."

 

 _Debs? Oh, Debbie._ Mickey realized this was Ian's sister, one that he'd only seen in pictures.

 

"He'll be fine. He just needs to take better care of himself and watch what he puts in his body. I can get proper suppressants for you since Ian said you can't go to omega services for... whatever reason. But you shouldn't take anything until you're completely recovered."

 

Mickey wasn't entirely okay with that. He didn't want the lack of suppressants to trigger his heat. Anyone in his apartment building would be able to smell that. He would be outed so quickly and dragged away before his heat even finished.

 

"But I can't—"

 

"You don't have much of a choice," Debbie said. "You'll only get sicker."

 

Mickey frowned. "No really, I can't—"

 

"Thanks for coming, Debs. I really appreciate it."

 

"No problem, though I do wish you'd visit when you didn't have a problem that only I could solve."

 

"I will. Don't worry."

 

 _Am I invisible?_ Mickey wondered as he watched the exchange between brother and sister before she left. He had never had a conversation like this with his own sister.

 

"Isn't she great?" Ian asked redundantly, after Debbie was gone. He came and sat next to Mickey on the bed. "She's almost done with nursing school here. She'll probably go back home once she's finished."

 

"I can't do it Ian."

 

"What?"

 

"Go without suppressants. Remember what happened last time I missed a dose?"

 

He knew Ian would. It wasn't easy to forget something like that.

 

"I'm sure we'll figure it out Mickey. You can just stay with me until it's over. That way no one will have to know you're an omega."

 

"That's not—"

 

"What other choice do you have Mickey?"

 

"I could keep taking suppressants and—"

 

"And what? Get sicker? Die? Please, do go on about your extensive list of choices."

 

Mickey glared at him.

 

"Besides, you won't necessarily go into heat. Especially if you're sick. Your body won't be able to get you better and go through heat at the same time. Works the same way with alpha ruts... I think."

 

"You _think_? And what if you think _wrong_?"

 

"Then we'll deal with it. I controlled myself last time, I can do it again."

 

"I can't. And if I don't have someone helping me through it, then I could get sicker."

 

"We'll figure it out."

 

"Stop saying we! There is no we, only you and only me."

 

"Don't you think I'm angry enough at you? Do you really have to try to make it worse by saying stupid shit like that? I still haven't forgiven you for what you did and you're not making it any better."

 

"Maybe I don't want you to forgive me. Maybe I'd rather you just leave."

 

" _Maybe_ , this isn't about what _you_ want.  Maybe it's about what I want.  And I want you to make it up to me."

 

"Make it up to you how? Stopping my suppressants and going into heat so you have an excuse to fuck me again."

 

"Don't be ridiculous," Ian snapped, and then he smirked. "We both know I don't need an excuse."

 

Mickey used what little energy he had to launch his pillow at Ian's head. It landed lightly on Ian's lap

 

"Come on, Mickey. I'm not gonna pretend I haven't missed it so you shouldn't either."

 

"Fine. Maybe I _have_ missed it."

 

"Then _why_ ," Ian crawled closer, "do you keep pushing," and closer, "me," so close, "away."

 

Oh boy did Mickey want to not push him away, and at that point, he wasn't planning on it either. Until a wave of nausea hit him and so did enough adrenaline for him to push Ian, not only away, but to the floor, and run to the bathroom. Only after he was done up chucking mostly bile and water did he realize Ian was rubbing his back. He also realized Ian had an arm around his torso and was the only reason that he was still managing to not collapse onto the floor. He slowly sunk down and ended up tucking himself into Ian's body, not caring if what he needed to do was the complete opposite of this.

 

"I brought you soup and crackers. It should settle your stomach and provide some sort of sustenance." Mickey groaned. Yet another thing to add to the 'reasons I owe Ian Gallagher the entire world' list.

 

If he wasn't an omega, he'd be able to give Ian the world. Or at least what Ian considered his world. But he can't give Ian anything.

 

"But you are, and you shouldn't have to apologize or make up for it in any way."

 

"Huh?"

 

"You keep mumbling 'if i wasn't an omega...' over and over again."

 

"Anything else I'm mumbling?"

 

"No. Why? Is there something I should know?"

 

"No." He could feel his consciousness fading a little.

 

"Don't sleep. Eat first."

 

Mickey tried protesting. But it came out a garbled mess. He couldn't make a coherent argument even when Ian hauled him to his feet and dragged him back to bed. He opened the bag he'd brought with him and got out the soup. (Un)fortunately, Ian didn't insist on feeding him. It was easy going down, but the difficult part came when he was to suppress the urge to run to the bathroom again as the liquid sloshed around uneasily in his stomach as he moved to lie down and get under his blanket. He didn't know when or if Ian even left, because his eyelids were drooping heavily and he was no longer paying mind to his surroundings. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated :)


	6. Is this considered moving on and forgetting?

Mickey didn't have the energy to argue or try and pick a fight with Ian. When he woke up, Ian managed to convince Mickey to come stay at his place till his sickness passed. Mickey mostly just wanted to go back to sleep, and this seemed to be the only way that Ian would let him. Ian also brought him some pills that apparently would help treat the symptoms and make the whole thing go along faster. Ian helped him settle in and brought him more soup. Mickey didn't really know what to think about it all. He felt like everything he had promised himself wouldn't happen was happening and at a speed he couldn't control.

 

"Is this what happened last time?" Ian asked him after a few minutes of listening to him slurp up the soup.

 

"Last time?"

 

"Yeah," Ian said, frowning as if he was trying to recall specific details. "Remember when we were at that concert? You got sick when we snuck off and then you could barely function for a while after that. I mean you have pretty much the same symptoms"

 

Mickey had avoided outright lying to Ian about _that_. He wanted to continue not having to lie more than necessary. "Not really."

 

"Then what was that? It definitely wasn't a cold or flu either."

 

He didn't know what to say. "It was just different. Didn't really have to do with suppressants."

 

"Oh okay. You done with that?" Mickey looked down at the bowl in his hands. He wasn't really done but he'd rather sleep, so he nodded and let Ian take it from him. 

 

He didn't know how long he slept but Ian wasn't around when he woke up. Of course he didn't expect Ian to sit and watch him sleep. His mouth was incredibly dry and he was grateful to find a glass of water already waiting for him on the bedside table. He was glad to have been able to keep some food down and generally felt better since he hadn't taken anymore suppressants since Ian's sister had checked him over.

 

Now that he could think clearer, he felt ridiculous for letting Ian bring him here. This wasn't something he wanted to be doing. Well, it was. But it wasn't something he should be doing. He was still adamant about not letting himself get close in any kind of way. It was selfish in a way, he didn't want it to be too difficult for him to leave again, but at the same time he didn't want to hurt Ian by letting him think he was around for good now. He wasn't.  He never could be. His future was bleak but he didn't have to drag others down with him.

 

He decided he should tell Ian that and got up to look for him. But the apartment was empty. He was alone. Great. He thought he could just tell Ian he was leaving and be done with it, but now he had to wait around for Ian to come back otherwise it would just look like it did last time, only now Ian knew where he would be and would just track him down again and Mickey would rather just get over with this part as soon as possible.

 

There was a folded blanket and a pillow on the couch which made Mickey feel horrible. Ian had slept on the couch instead of letting him sleep on the couch. He couldn't understand why Ian would do all of this since he had made it clear he was angry. It didn't make any sense to him. But he guessed if they were on the opposite ends of the situation Mickey would do the same. He didn't know why but he just knew he wouldn't be able to turn his back on Ian no matter what.

 

He decided to explore his surroundings since there was nothing much to do but wait. The bathroom was pretty much set up just as it had been when they'd shared a dorm room. Only without Mickey's mess. The bedroom also looked pretty much the same as Ian's side of their dorm room, except the bed was unmade since Mickey had just been using it. Ian used to only leave the bed unmade when he was a in a rush which was almost never since he was always on top of everything and on time to everything. Mickey realized Ian had changed very little in terms of his habits.

 

The living room however didn't really concur with Ian's minimalist ways. There was a lot of furniture and though it fit nicely it just wasn't Ian-like at all. It reminded him more of Mary's hoarding habits. He was also taken aback by all of the art on the walls. It was all his. He realized why all those paintings he'd put up that day when Ian first approached him had sold so quickly. And why the buyer had asked to remain anonymous. He should have realized, but after what he had said to Ian that day, he didn't really think Ian would want anything to do with him.

 

He was still taking in his surroundings when he heard voices coming from the door that opened out to the hallway. It was Ian, and he wasn't alone. Not wanting to deal with whoever it could be with him, he dove behind a couch as soon as he heard a key being inserted into the lock. He created quite the thud doing it.

 

Ian and the other person came in and closed the door behind them.

 

"Did you hear that?" the person, who Mickey quickly recognized as Mary, asked. _Fuck_ , he thought to himself.

 

"Didn't hear anything," Ian answered.

 

"Okay... just go get the papers. I'll mail them for you."

 

"Are you sure? I can go on my own later."

 

"Don't worry about it. The post office is on my way."

 

Ian left the room and Mickey dared not to peek as Mary sat down on the couch he was hiding behind. This had the workings of a disaster.

 

\----

 

Ian left Mary in the living room while he went to go grab a copy of his manuscript from the bedroom. Mary was going to mail it to the publishing company he was with for him on her way home. The bed, unfortunately, was empty.

 

 _Typical_ , he thought bitterly, but he felt like he should expect it by now. Mickey wasn't going to stick around. He decided he'd make sure that Mickey wasn't taking dodgy suppressants anymore and help him find a safer place to stay but then he wouldn't bother him anymore. There was no point. Mickey didn't seem to feel the same way about Ian as he used to, if he ever even did feel anything for Ian.

 

He grabbed the manuscript and handed it over to Mary after writing down the address it had to be sent to.

 

"Hey, why were you sleeping on the couch?" She asked him.

 

"It's comfy," he answered. It wasn't a lie, but he hadn't told her that he'd found Mickey. She would slaughter them both if he tried now. Mickey for leaving, and Ian for not telling her sooner.

 

"Well these couches I chose for you weren't meant to be _slept_ on Ian, that'll ruin them."

 

"They're just couches. Relax."

 

After a small argument on whether it should be acceptable to sleep on couches, Mary stormed out, threatening to throw Ian's manuscript in the gutter. Ian, knowing she wouldn't actually do it, let her go. He stubbornly stretched himself out on the couch in question and closed his eyes, trying not to be even angrier with Mickey, and failing at it pretty miserably.

 

"You know, if she comes back in here and sees you like this she'll burn this place to the ground."

 

Ian opened his eyes in surprise and looked up at Mickey's face in confusion. Then he closed them again and feigned indifference.

 

"I thought you left."

 

"You know where I live. Would there have been a point?"

 

"Probably not. How are you feeling?"

 

He heard Mickey sigh. "Better. A lot better."

 

He felt Mickey move his legs up and sit down, letting Ian's feet rest in his lap. He grinned smugly at that. Out of all the places to sit in the room, Mickey still chose to be near him.

 

"Wipe that stupid smile off your face Ian."

 

Ian opened his eyes again and raised a brow. "Why should I? You know, you keep saying one thing and doing another. Actions speak louder than words."

 

"And what exactly are my actions saying so loudly?"

 

"That you want to be here as much as I want you here."

 

"I do want to be here." Mickey said quietly. Ian tried not to let his surprise at that show too much. He'd only been teasing before.

 

He pulled his feet off of Mickey's lap and scooted closer, taking Mickey's face in his hands so that the omega had no choice but to look at him. "Then why do you keep trying to pull away?"

 

\----

 

"Why are you doing this?" Mickey asks instead of answering. "Aren't you mad at me? Shouldn't you be throwing me out instead of trying to take me in?"

 

"Of course I'm mad," Ian tells him. "How could I not be? You leaving almost ripped me to shreds. And I'm not going to forgive you. I'm not _ready_ to."

 

Ian let go of his face and moved his hands across Mickey's shoulders and down his arms, stroking the back of Mickey's hands lightly with his thumbs. Mickey shuddered slightly and repressed the urge to tear his eyes away from Ian's and hide his gaze in Ian's neck.

 

"At least, not until you give me a reason to. Like telling me the truth, for example. That could be a start."

 

He chuckled slightly when Mickey frowned at that.

 

"But either way, I can't help how I feel. I can't help what you do to me when I'm around you. And I'm kinda hoping you can't help it either."

 

Ian dips his head down to place a soft kiss on Mickey's chin and then starts kissing a painfully slow trail down his neck when Mickey let's his head fall back against the couch. He can't help the gasp that comes from throat when Ian moves his hands to push under Mickey's shirt. His fingers are cold and rough against his warm skin.

 

He thinks about how unfair this is. Ian might think that he's affected by Mickey's presence but he has no clue what happens to Mickey when he's around. Mickey can hardly function. He says stupid things. He forgets his priorities. He forgets what he should be doing over what he's actually doing. But he can't deny that he wants this too. Especially if he can somehow make it up to Ian for everything and maybe if he just went with his instincts, Ian would want to take him back and—

 

But that's exactly what wasn't supposed to happen! He wasn't supposed to be doing this no matter how much he wanted it. He was supposed to be ignoring his instincts and keeping his distance. He would never know when he would have to leave again and then he'd just be repeating history.

 

But the possibility of Ian forgiving him sounded so good. And the way Ian hauled his legs onto the couch and pinned him down made his heart go into overdrive, pumping his blood into the direction opposite of where he needed it. And Ian's lips felt so good against his skin and his brain was getting all fuzzy and his stomach was tied in knots and _fuck he was feeling so hot._

 

And Ian was barely touching him. He remembered how good it felt but it wasn't this good was it? This was something entirely different. This was how it felt off of suppressants and he didn't know why he had ever gone on them in the first place. Well, he did. But he refused to acknowledge the reason.

 

It was a blessing when Ian finally kissed him properly. He let out the most embarrassing moan, made worse by the fact that he could _feel_ Ian laughing at it. He could feel it across his body, the short breath he let out against Mickey's lips and the way his chest shook against Mickey's chest. But he didn't really care.

 

The kiss was sloppy, or at least, Mickey was being very sloppy. He felt like Ian must be thinking about how horrible Mickey had become at it in their years apart. It was just another thing to add on to the things Mickey didn't care about at that moment, because Ian tasted so good.

 

His entire agenda, the speech he was going to give Ian about why he should just pretend that Mickey never existed, flew out of his mind completely the second Ian started dry humping against his crotch. He couldn't even remember why he had ever thought about leaving Ian. Because if he had this--not just Ian's body and what it could do to his body, but Ian's presence, his aura, as a whole--what possible reason could he have for ever wanting to be anywhere else.

 

Though it certainly felt intense, there was no urgency or aggressiveness as they made out. It was quite lazy, as if they were teens again, lying in Ian's bed in their dorm room with all the time in the world and no reason to rush. The kissing simmered off into nuzzling and cuddling. It didn't clear his head though, and maybe that's why he still felt at peace, the only sounds in the room their breathing, and the feeling of Ian's arms clutching him possessively and keeping the cold out.

 

But the peace was shortlived as the door swung open and Mary walked in. They tried to scramble away from each other but only got further tangled into a mess of limbs so they just froze.

 

Mary didn't look up as she approached. "Um, Ian the address you wrote down got smudged and since you weren't answering your phone I thought I might as well come back and—"

 

She finally looked up and saw them. She frowned and took a moment to assess the situation. Their messy hair, pink faces, swollen lips and disheveled clothes. Even one of those would have been enough to let her know what had been happening. The frown didn't leave her face as she turned and left, leaving the door wide open behind her.

 

They slumped back down into a similar position as before. Mickey let Ian bury his face in Mickey's chest as he groaned. They were both in a lot of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will take longer than the last few.


	7. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian knows of something that would make Mickey uncomfortable. Mickey thinks he can handle it.

"How could I let this happen?" Ian was pacing the room frantically. "She'll never forgive me."

 

Mickey grunted in response. He wasn't very happy having been interrupted. Not that he wasn't worried about having hurt Mary, he just had other things clouding his mind. He was in a really weird space at the moment.

 

"Aren't you worried? You should be. This _is_ all your fault."

 

" _My fault?!_ You kissed me first asshole!"

 

Ian scowled at him.

 

"Is _that_ what you think I've been talking about this whole time? She's mad because you left and I didn't tell her when I found you. Not because we were making out."

 

"Still don't see how this is my fault. You're the one who didn't tell her."

 

Ian stopped pacing and stood in front of Mickey, and pulled him up and off the couch. "How many times do I need to repeat myself, Mickey? _You left us!_ "

 

He let go and Mickey fell back onto the couch. Again it was strange, Ian had been so gentle with him just a little while before, and now all this aggressiveness was coming out of nowhere. He didn't like it. He couldn't help but be a little afraid. Not that he thought Ian would hurt him or that he couldn't control his anger, he'd just learned to be wary around alphas when they were feeling particularly ticked off.

 

"I did mention I was sorry right?" _Great_ , he thought. _You really know how to make things better._

 

Ian sighed and sat down next to him. "I know you're sorry. I know that if you didn't have to, you wouldn't have left. But Mary's not going to care. Everyone in the OAA went through a lot of shit after you disappeared. Some of it was _because_ you disappeared. And not everyone —"

 

Mickey waited for him to continue, but Ian seemed to have stopped right there for good. "Not everyone what?"

 

A soft buzzing sound prompted Ian to pull his phone out of his pocket. His expression unchanging, he checked the notification and put his phone away, looking at Mickey with a softer expression for the first time since Mary had left.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

Mickey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Fine, I guess…”

 

“Well enough to go to a dinner?”

 

_Is he asking me out or something?_

 

“Mary’s alpha just texted me saying that she's inviting us over… for dinner. A chance to beg for forgiveness I'm hoping.”

 

 _Never mind._ “Her alpha?”

 

“Uh, yeah. She… settled I guess.”

 

Mickey arched a brow. “Do you mean settled _down_?”

 

“Sure. Settled, settled down. Same thing I guess.”

 

“I guess I'm up for it. I'm curious to see who this person is that has the energy to keep up with her.”

 

“Yeah that's exactly why I'm not too happy about this. I don't really socialise with him.”

 

“But he's the one who texted you.”

 

“Only because Mary is too mad to do it herself.”

 

“It sounds simple enough. We go, I help you apologize and then we can stop pretending that there is still something between us.”

 

Ian smirked. “You mean, _you_ can stop pretending that there isn't.”

 

“No—”

 

“I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think you'll like the situation. I know _I_ won't.”

 

“You got beef with this guy or something?”

 

“Or something.” Ian scratched the back of his head. “Maybe there's another way to make it up to her.”

 

“Nah. Let's go to the dinner. I'm curious.”

 

“I'm telling you that you'll regret it.”

 

“You need to stop telling me how I should feel.”

 

Ian shook his head. “I'm not saying you _should_ regret it. I'm saying you _will_.”

 

“I feel like it’ll be more entertaining watching how this plays out.”

 

“You're wrong.” Ian stretched his arm out and rested it on Mickey's shoulders. “You're so wrong.”

 

Mickey shoved Ian's arm off of him in defiance to Ian's statement.

 

“In fact,” Ian put his arm back around Mickey, “I'm so sure you're wrong, that I'm willing to bet on it. What do you say? Wanna put a wager on it?”

 

“Depends,” Mickey said, contemplating his options. _What can I get out of him?_

 

“How about this? If this dinner genuinely amuses you, I'll stop pining for you to make amends to me and move on. I'll never bother you again.”

 

“Sounds pretty good to me.” And though those were the words his mind thought he wanted to hear, he felt like there were stones in his gut, weighing him down at the inclination that Ian could give him up over a stupid bet.

 

“But from the moment you realize how wrong you are—”

 

“Not gonna happen”

 

“—and I estimate this moment to be pretty much as soon as we get there, you have to start actively working towards making me forgive you.”

 

Mickey stared down at his feet buried in the plush carpet below, trying to keep his expression neutral. If that was what Ian wanted from him—to be able to forgive—should he even want to win the bet?

 

He wanted to react in a certain way. He wanted to be glad that Ian might leave him alone, but he wasn't. The thought of it made his body want to tremble and cower. He wanted to be unhappy with Ian's winning demands, but the thought of Ian forgiving him was enticing. It made the tension from the last thought dissipate. He wasn't reacting the way he should have been. He feared it was already too late. He was in too deep and he may never pull away.

 

But he never could back down from a challenge (whether his want to win or not varied when considering his pride and what he gained or lost in the process).

 

“Sure. Deal.” Ian grinned and leaned forward to deliver a loud smooch onto Mickey's lips, leaving Mickey wide eyed and vacant minded.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“I'm happy. Because I know I'll win.”

 

_We'll see. (Let's hope.)_

 

_\----_

 

The hours leading up to the dinner in question were rather tension filled. Mickey wanted to go back to his apartment and Ian wasn't too happy about it. But Mickey insisted, saying he needed to shower and change anyways—he couldn't reunite properly with Mary in his sweatpants and an old tee—and outright refusing to use Ian's shower or wear Ian's clothes.

 

“Okay, how about this? I can bring you clothes and you can shower while I'm gone. That way, whatever _intentions_ you think I have are invalid.”

 

“You can't honestly think that I'm never going to go back there. All my stuff is there. I'm going.”

 

Ian blocked his path to the door. “I'll come with you. You're still sick, what if you pass out on public transit or something.”

 

“I'm _fine_.” Ian wasn't so sure. “Are you worried I won't come back?”

 

 _Only slightly_ , Ian thought. “Of course you'd come back, you've got a point to prove.”

 

Mickey didn't reply. Only glared a hole into his skull.

 

“Listen, if you want to go, I'm coming with you, or it’s not happening.”

 

Mickey looked ready to argue, but then seemed to think better of it and dropped his glare. “Fine.”

 

So Ian escorted him back. The time it took them to get there was quiet. There wasn't much tension between them but that didn't mean there wasn't anything to be resolved.

 

Ian was surprised to find that Mickey's place was still intact when they got there.

 

“It's not _that_ bad of a neighbourhood,” Mickey told him when he voiced the opinion.

 

“Sure,” was the reply.

 

Mickey went to shower and Ian took the opportunity to really explore the apartment. He hadn't had the chance when Mickey had been asleep a few days prior. He was too afraid that Mickey's condition would only worsen and didn't leave his side. Now that he didn't have that to worry about, he took in everything he could; every painting that was still in process and ones that were finished and lined up against the walls, the contents of Mickey's fridge—junk and beer, but he didn't expect anything different. He noticed the lack of personal items, no family pictures or anything of that sort. Mickey didn't have anything  he didn't explicitly need. Ian guessed that made it easier to cut ties and leave when needed. It was upsetting to think that Mickey thought he needed to live like this. Did he think that there was no one who cared? Or did he himself not care? Ian hoped it was neither.

 

Suddenly, he wasn't sure that taking Mickey to the dinner was such a good idea. It might not do anything to help their situation. Surely, even Mary knew that it may not end well. But Mary was angry with them, she probably didn't care how either of them would feel. But maybe he could convince Mickey to not want to go.

 

So without thinking too much of it (or maybe a little too much) he pushed open the bathroom door, silently thanking some ethereal presence or otherwise, that Mickey hadn't locked it, otherwise it would have been kind of strange for him to just ram against the door while Mickey was in there.

 

Mickey didn't seem to hear the door open so Ian slipped inside and sat on top of the closed toilet seat. The bathroom was filled with steam and he could just barely make out Mickey's silhouette through the shower curtain.

 

“Hey Mick?”

 

A string of profanities came from Mickey followed by the tell tale sounds of bottles being dropped.

 

“You okay?”

 

“The fuck? Ian get out!”

 

“I just have to talk to you about something. It’s important I swear.” It probably could have waited till Mickey was out of the shower, but Ian found this method far more amusing. Unfortunately, he only had his imagination to facilitate the image of Mickey bending over to pick up the bottles.

 

“Get. Out.”

 

“I'm just not sure this dinner is a good idea.”

 

A hand appeared from the of the curtain, pulling it away just enough for Mickey's shampoo covered head to poke out.

 

“Not so confident you're gonna win the bet anymore, huh?”

 

Ian frowned. “A little too confident actually. I don't want you to get upset if the situation ends up being too uncomfortable.”

 

Mickey's head disappeared. “I can take care of myself and my emotions on my own. I've been doing it my whole life.”

 

“But this was the one thing that you couldn't take care of,” Ian mumbled.

 

“What?” Mickey yelled over the sound of the water.

 

“You can't think of anything you couldn't handle?”

 

Mickey was silent for only a moment. “Nope.”

 

“Think harder.”

 

Mickey shut the water off. “Why don't you tell me what you're thinking of? Unless you wanna forfeit from the bet and get over me right now.”

 

 _Well, there's no way in hell that's happening._ Ian was sure that Mickey knew what he was talking about, but for some reason was refusing to acknowledge. But he didn't want to say it out loud.

 

“Whatever, it's your choice. Though I'm asking you to reconsider.”

 

Mickey reached out to pull the towel hanging near the shower, but Ian moved it out of reach. Mickey kept blindly trying to grab for it. “Not happening. Now get out.”

 

Ian left. With the towel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> As always I apologize for the late update and as always I have to inform you that the next chapter will likely take a while.


	8. Not an Update

So it's been over 5 months since I last updated and though I had good portion of this story already planned I find I have no motivation to write it. I've been very detached from Shameless and writing in general and I'm trying to get back into both but I'm not really sure I can continue with this particular fic right now.

I may start another story in an attempt to get back into writing just so I can get into the habit of it again (since I was posting things regularly for a year before this block) and I really want to be able to return to this fic in the future with a fresh mind.

Thank you to everyone who read this story and Hiding in Plain Sight and to those who gave the fics kudos and left comments etc. I'm glad that I could entertain you even if it wasn't for long and I'm very sorry to disappoint.


	9. Just let him make you happy (AN UPDATE??????)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner isn't bad but it's not great but what happens afterwards is pretty great
> 
> aka Mary knocks some sense into Mickey but not even she knows the whole story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ (or ignore your choice tbh)
> 
> I'm going to apologize in advance for how long this note might end up being but there are just some things I would like to get out of the way before this super special chapter.
> 
> So I'm back!! To be completely honest I wasn't planning on it being this soon. I wanted to finish the other story I started after going on hiatus with this one since they're both WIPs but I was rereading this series and all the lovely comments that I've gotten throughout the whole thing (all the while neglecting all the studying I have to do for midterms) and I remembered how much I love Mickey and Ian and just everything about them and how as an audience, you guys have helped me grow with this story and my writing in general.
> 
> I was never planning on giving up on this completely, I just needed writing inspiration in general, and I think starting a fresh story in a completely different fandom (like COMPLETELY different) really helped because I feel like my ideas are flowing a little more freely now. That being said, I've pretty much dumped everything I originally planned for this story, mostly because I can't remember ANY main plot points at all. I know I wanted it to be kinda dark and social justice-y and it can still be all that if you guys really want though I'll be completely honest, with all the shit that goes on in the world today it might just become super depressing and probably won't end up with a very happy ending (I think I've only ever done one, maybe two happy endings with longer fics in my entire life).
> 
> Basically what I'm saying is that: TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE!! I can attempt fluff, I can turn this entire thing into pwp if ya nastys want that, I could... idk kill off a couple of characters WHATEVER! But also if you'd rather I just keep going aimlessly and see where my mind ends up taking me I can do that too.
> 
> Lastly (for now): I'll still be writing my other fic as well and I will do my very best to update this regularly as well (if I take longer than a week it's likely because of uni) but I promise I won't start anything else or put a pause on this fic again until it's finished. And while on the topic of my other fic, the characters are fairly timid and very not Shameless like at all (plus it's kind of a ghost story so the tone is very different) so please excuse me if that kind of bleeds into this one at times since I've been in that mindset since pretty much April.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still here and thank you to everyone who's not (I know you can't see this but I hope the sentiment reaches you in spirit)! It hasn't been the best year for me so I appreciate everyone being understanding and supportive of my decision to put this story on hold.
> 
> As promised I have returned :D

Mickey panted lightly as he lay over Ian's bare chest. He can barely recall the events that led up to this, mostly because Ian had quite literally just fucked his brains out. His neck was stinging. His thoughts were fuzzy. He felt intoxicated by the pheromones Ian was emitting. He was in a situation that he never really planned on being in, but now, he was probably the safest he could ever imagine being as well. At least he hoped— _wished_ —that was case.

 

And it all started when…

 

\----

 

“You can back out right now, you know,” Ian told him as they walked up the steps to a very picturesque looking home. “I’m giving you this choice now. You won’t have it later, because once you’re in there, I doubt she’ll let you leave till she gets what she wants. So last chance, wanna leave and order take-out instead?”

 

“And lose? No way.”

 

Ian shook his head. “We can call off the bet. I’m sure we can make it up to Mary a different way. Mickey, I _know_ you're not going to like this. Please don't do this to yourself.”

 

“We’re already here. Let's just get this over and done with.” _What’s the big deal?_

 

“Fine. But once that door opens, there's no turning back, alright?”

 

“Yeah whatever.” Ian rang the doorbell and they waited in silence.

 

Mickey made sure not to give any indication of wanting to back out of the dinner but he couldn't help feel uneasy about how sure Ian was that he wouldn’t be comfortable. He was uncomfortable already, and he didn't even know what about just yet. But Ian couldn't possibly read that on him. Or at least he hoped not.

 

The door swung open and it took a second for Mickey to comprehend the smiling face in front of him.

 

“Hey Mick! It's good to see you again.” But Mickey was already turning around and heading down the steps.

 

“Oh no you don't.” Ian grabbed him roughly by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back up. He didn't, however, turn around. “Sorry, you of all people should know this isn't going to be easy for him.”

 

“It's okay,” Tom said, and Mickey grimaced. “I know I've made mistakes in the past and I haven't had a chance to make up for them. Listen, Mick I—”

 

“I'm pretty sure I've told you not to call me that.”

 

“Sorry. _Mickey_ , let me take this opportunity to formally apologize what I put you through. I was an angry and horny eighteen year old and I acted like a completely pig headed alpha. There's no excuse for what I did, and I don't expect forgiveness. You have every right to never want to see me again.”

 

“Good, so now that we’re all on the same page—” Mickey tried pulling his sleeve out of Ian's grip but a different hand shot out and grabbed Mickey’s ear effectively turning him around and pulling him through the door.

 

“If you think you're getting out of this you are _so_ wrong, Milkovich.” Mickey winced at the pain from his ear being pulled by Mary's fingers and he registered the anger in her usually sweet tone. It wasn't often that he heard her sounding like this.

 

“Dammit woman, let go!”

 

“Not until you're ready to get on your knees and beg me to forgive you for abandoning me!”

 

“Ow! That is not happening! Let go!”

 

“Well I guess I'll have to eat dinner one handed then.”

 

Mickey looked at Mary's fuming expression and back at Ian who was still in the doorway next to Tom, stifling his laughter with his palm. Absolutely no fucking help.

 

“Don't think you're off the hook, asshole! How long have you known Mickey was here in this city?”

 

Ian's grin dropped. “Not long, I swear.”

 

“He's lying it's been like two weeks!” Mickey said, trying to pry Mary's fingers off.

 

“You're not getting pardoned for being a snitch.”

 

Eventually the two alphas convinced Mary to let go of Mickey, however Mickey did have to get down on his knees (begrudgingly so) and apologize to Mary, who only smacked the top of his head and told him to help set the dinner table. Not wanting any more body parts to be abused, he only grumbled under his breath as he followed her to the kitchen.

 

Even around the two people he probably felt most comfortable with, his heart was beating fast with anxiety. Ian was right, he couldn't handle this. As sincere as Tom's apology had seemed, he didn't believe it. He didn't know how Mary could possibly have ended up mated to him, it couldn't have been by choice. Why hadn't Ian done anything to stop this from happening?

 

Despite the fact that the couple interacted fairly well and there didn't seem to be any signs of Tom having abused Mary, he didn't trust the guy. At all. He couldn't. He could barely trust Ian and Ian had never attacked him. He only trusted Mary because she was an omega. So Mickey couldn't even fathom ever thinking about trusting someone who had intentionally hurt him physically and scarred him emotionally.

 

Tom, however, seemed to sense his aversion and kept his distance, staying as far away from Mickey as could be allowed in the cozy dining room.

 

Mary grilled Mickey about how he had been living and once she knew about his dangerous apartment he was living in and the questionable pharmaceuticals he'd been taking, there was a huge lecture. Unlike Ian, she didn't ask why he had left, which he was grateful for.

 

“Well, all that aside, I'm glad we found you again. You have no idea how worried we all were.”

 

Mickey avoided eye contact.

 

“Can I talk to you privately?”

 

Mickey looked up, surprised. He nodded, not knowing what to expect.

 

The two alphas helped in bringing all the dishes to the kitchen and then left the omegas alone to talk.

 

“Why?”

 

Mickey sighed. He should have expected this.

 

“I won't tell Ian. I just… I can't think of a single reason why you would want to leave. You were getting an education, despite the entire world saying that someone like you shouldn't. You had an amazing alpha who would do anything for you. Friends who cared about you. And you left all that behind to live as you do now? Hiding? From the law, from the whole world? Why?”

 

Mickey, who was drying and putting away dishes as Mary washed them, thought about the prospects of finally telling the truth to someone.

 

“I'll tell you, on one condition.”

 

Mary scoffed. “No offence, I don't think you have any right to make any demands from me after how you hurt me, but I'll let it slide. What do you want?”

 

“Why Tom?”

 

Mary's hand stopped scrubbing the plate she was holding. She took a deep breath before continuing.

 

“I had never met him in the short time he'd been at college with us. I met him a year ago when I'd been arrested for starting a riot outside a courthouse where they were convicting an omega for accidentally killing her alpha in self defense. He was interning at the precinct I was brought into. Can you believe we don't even get a one phone call like alphas and betas do? I was gonna be shipped to some place the next day where they were gonna groom me, more like brainwash me, into becoming a ‘proper omega’.”

 

Her shoulders slumped slightly but she kept going.

 

“I thought everything was over for me but he offered to call someone for me. When Ian came to bail me out, and he saw Tom, he was furious. He didn't even let me say thank you or goodbye or anything. Just dragged me out without a word and told me never to talk to him again. So of course the next day I went back to find him.”

 

They were finished with the dishes so Mickey watched as Mary began putting leftovers into tupperware and storing it in the fridge.

 

“He told me immediately how he knew Ian, and about what he'd done to you. Of course I was angry, I knew that you'd been attacked but I hadn't known by who and finding out, I felt like blaming him entirely for your disappearance even though I knew he had been long gone by then. But I didn't stop coming to see him. I felt this undeniable pull towards him. It sucked. I felt guilty. I didn't even tell Ian or anyone about it. But the more I learned about him the more I realized he couldn't possibly be the same person who attacked you anymore. He told me that getting his ass kicked by you had really woken him up and that he couldn't believe he'd been so blinded by his anger that he'd hurt you when he'd been so into you.”

 

Once again, Mickey had trouble believing it. It wasn’t even that he thought that the words were truly lies. He just didn’t _want_ to believe them.

 

“To repent for his mistakes he wanted to get into the police force so that he could aid the omegas that the law didn't protect. If he had that power, he could use it to help. That's why he'd offered to call Ian for me. And when there's an omega who has no one to call, he bails them out himself and finds them a safe place to stay.  He began asking me if I had other ways he could help or if I knew of places he could take omegas that he helped in escaping the clutches of the law. And well the rest is pretty much straightforward, we fucked, I told him I wanted his babies so he bit me and we just recently had a proper wedding.”

 

Mickey stayed quiet throughout. He knew Mary had no reason to lie to him but he wouldn't start trusting Tom just because he was doing good _now_.

 

“No one expects you to forgive him. Ian never did, he kind of just… puts up with him, for me. But forget all that, it's your turn.”

 

Mickey started out slow, before really getting into the reason. Mary already knew he had run away from home and enrolled in the college without anyone in his family knowing about it so he skipped over that part and told her about how his sister had come to find him and tell him that their father and brothers had found him and that they were coming for him.

 

He knew that even in a huge rally with thousands of omegas that they wouldn't hesitate to publicly drag him away. And technically they had a right to since he legally belonged to them until he had a mate. He also knew that they weren't afraid of hurting anyone who might try to stop them, which included his omega friends and Ian. He told her that he left without a word because it meant no one would get hurt.

 

“We were hurt anyways Mickey. And how could you think that we wouldn't have done everything in our power to protect you? That we would have cared more about a few scratches or bruises in a fight with a bunch of barbaric alphas over your safety? Don't answer that. You weren't thinking.”

 

“It doesn't matter now. My life is as it is. And it'll stay that way until I get found out. Then I'll have to move away again or just accept my fate.”

 

He felt a sharp stinging sensation on the back of his head.

 

“Ow! What the hell was that for??”

 

“You really are an idiot, Milkovich. You don't _need_ to hide anymore.”

 

“I'm an unmated omega Mary. I'm not allowed to live on my own.”

 

“First of all, you're not living on your own anymore. Last I checked you've been staying with Ian and I doubt he's gonna let you leave any time soon. Second, you guys are gonna become mates at some point right? So you won't be unmated anymore and—”

 

“What the hell are you talking about? We're not going to mate.”

 

Mary rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Do you really not think _anything_ through? Are you really telling me you want to live on the run for the rest of your life instead of letting the one person in this world willing to put up with your dumb ass claim you and living happily ever fucking after?”

 

“Profanities don't suit you.”

 

“Shut up and let him bite you Mickey. Ian is the best thing that could happen to any omega so stop being so stupid. You’re lucky I didn’t steal him while you were gone.”

 

“I don't know…”

 

“It's selfish of you to keep dragging him along like this you know?”

 

“I am _not_ forcing him to follow me around.”

 

“No, you're not. But you know he loves you enough to keep doing it anyways. So just… let something good happen to you for once. Just let him make you happy.”

 

Mickey knew just how right she was. He had abandoned Ian and hurt him and yet the redhead was helping him and taking care of him. He had never doubted Ian's feelings and never doubted his own. It would be great to just accept Ian's bite and his knot and… to just be happy. It was so easy.

 

But there was one thing still standing in the way. A secret that had never once been spoken, one that he refused to even think about. If he was to accept Ian as his mate this secret couldn't remain a secret between them, but he sure as hell didn't have the courage to say it out loud. What would Ian think of him if he did? If he was pissed at how Mickey handled break ups how pissed would he be that Mickey had kept something so big from him? What if Ian rejected him?

 

He had always felt a pull towards Ian and he knew that meant they were naturally compatible but an alpha rejecting an omega—especially an omega as weak as Mickey was right now since he was still recovering—could be fatal. He could literally die from rejection, and even worse, he could survive the rejection and have to live with it for the rest of his life. Of course the sliver of hope that Ian would accept him no matter what did swim through his thoughts for a moment, but he had never trusted hope, as big or small as it may be.

 

He couldn't—he didn't want to—go through the anxiety of that.

 

Then again, there was the possibility of him just lying to Ian forever. That would mean that the basis of their relationship was built on a buried secret, but hell, how great would it be if it worked out anyways.

 

\----

 

“You handled that really well, Mickey. I'm glad.”

 

Mickey hummed in response. Ian could sense that he was exhausted, after all, the omega was still recovering.

 

“Do you want to head straight home or do you want to stop for coffee first?”

 

“Coffee sounds good,” Mickey mumbled.

 

Ian intertwined their fingers as they walked, a smile spreading on his face when he felt no resistance from Mickey. The omega walked uncharacteristically silent next to him and Ian hoped it was just fatigue that plagued him and not something else.

 

Once they were sat at a table with warm cups in their hands, Mickey finally spoke up.

 

“I guess you win, so what do you want me to do?”

 

“What?”

 

“The bet, dummy. You win. What do you want me to do to make it up to you?”

           

Ian smiled warmly at him. “What do you think I want?”

 

Mickey frowned. “To tell you why I left?”

 

Ian shook his head. “As long as I'm not the one who drove you away, I don't even care.”

 

“Do you… want me to stay?”

 

Ian stared down at his coffee silently.

 

“Come on, Gallagher, don't make me play this fucking guessing game. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

 

“I want everything to be as it was before. Between us. We were so good together, don't you think?”

 

“We were good at sex that's for sure.”

 

“We were good as roommates. We were good at taking care of each other. I want to be good again.”

 

Mickey pursed his lips.

 

“It's just a stupid bet though, Mickey. I don't expect anything fro—”

 

“No. I want to be good again too.”

 

Ian's mood lifted immediately. “You do?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Really???”

 

“Yes! Can you stop staring at me like a child looking at candy?”

 

“Sorry,” Ian said laughing. “Do you still taste as good as candy?”

 

Mickey could feel the heat rising to his face at the memories of Ian eating him out like he was the best tasting thing in the world.

 

“Do you want to find out?”

 

\----

 

“Fuck! Keep going, God Ian, don't stop.”

 

Mickey bit down onto a pillow that smelled way too much like Ian to keep him sane, as he was rocked back and forth by the sharp movements of Ian's hips as the alpha pounded him into the mattress. There was nothing holding him up as he lay there with his ass up for Ian to fuck. Wave after wave of pleasure made him shudder uncontrollably. He'd lost count of how many times he'd cum but Ian still wasn't finished with him and he definitely didn't mind. He was way beyond the point of overstimulation and he didn't even care.

 

“Bite me,” he groaned into the pillow.

 

“What? I can't understand you.”

 

Mickey lifted his head with great difficulty. “I said, bite me.”

 

“Right now? Are you crazy?” Ian stopped moving pulled out, which was easy to do, since his knot had only just started forming and he hadn't pushed it in yet.

 

Mickey almost growled at the emptiness and Ian rolled him over onto his back. The cum he'd previously deposited there was now cold and wet on his skin. He'd need a hell of a shower after this.

 

“I'm serious. I want you to bite me.”

 

“Mickey, this isn't like you. When we first started going out said you didn't want me to claim you for a long time. And I agreed that it was too soon.”

 

“Well I don't know where you've been but it _has_ been a long time since then.”

 

“Have you thought this through?”

 

“I've been thinking about it this whole time. I don't… I don't want to live unmated anymore. I told you I want us to be good again. And I want to stay with you forever. So there's no reason to put it off right? Unless, you don't want to.”

 

Ian's eyes turned bright gold and he held Mickey's arms down to the mattress. “Don't say ridiculous things. You know I want to. I'll give you anything you want.”

 

Mickey whimpered slightly as Ian bent down and nipped slightly at the place he'd mark. Then he pushed Mickey's legs up to his chest and started where he left off. Mickey was moaning uncontrollably as Ian kissed and licked the sensitive spot on his neck. He hissed slightly as Ian pushed his growing knot in, but his body was made to accommodate it and it did that well. The feeling of being stretched so widely had heat pooling in his stomach once again but he wasn't sure if he even had anything left in him.

 

He clenched tightly around Ian's cock and Ian told him to hold off for just a bit longer.

 

“I can't. Fuck, I'm so close. Please Ian.”

 

“Not yet. Together okay?”

 

Ian reached down and circled his fingers tightly around the base of Mickey's cock.

 

As they both got closer and closer to release, Mickey just on the verge of it. The heat was now a fire and he was so sensitive already, he was sure there were tears involuntarily streaming down his cheeks but he couldn't feel them.

 

He felt Ian's hot cum filling him up the same time as Ian loosened his hold on Mickey's cock and started stroking it instead, and Mickey's body jerked almost violently as came. His back arched off the bed and Ian chose that moment to finally bite down on Mickey’s neck. Mickey opened his mouth but no sound came out. He could only lie there, panting as the alphas bite, _his_ alphas bite, immobilised him. Ian lapped up the bit of blood dripping down his neck, stopping only when the bleeding had stopped completely. His knot still kept them joined as he gently changed their positions so Mickey was resting on top and pulled a blanket over them.

 

“I think this might trigger my heat,” Mickey managed to say.

 

“Well it's a good thing neither of us have anything important to do.”

 

“You better work on not taking so long to cum man. I don't think I can do it for that long every time. I don't remember you taking so long before.”

 

Ian laughed and pressed a kiss to Mickey's sweaty forehead.

 

“Fuck we stink.”

 

“I'm not moving.”

 

“Think about it Mickey, shower sex.”

  
“ _I am not getting fucked again tonight_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what more to say, I pretty much said it all in the beginning.


	10. Mickey is the clueless one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite them being bound for life, tensions continue to rise.
> 
> Does Ian know something that he probably shouldn't?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again!
> 
> I said I won't give up on this and I won't. (Even if I end up dragging it along for the next thirty years or so)
> 
> This hasn't been edited very well because I was too excited to post it.

“We probably should have discussed this beforehand but… here goes nothing.” Mickey cleared his throat. “I can't cook for you, I _won't_ clean, I definitely won't—”

“Mickey.” Ian said, through the bathroom door. Of course, Mickey would want to talk about this when they weren't face to face.

“What?”

“I already know this stuff about you.”

“Huh?”

“I lived in a tiny room with you for five months I already know these things.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well… I'm not going to change.”

“I would never ask you to.”

“I might get worse.”

“Go right ahead.”

Mickey was quiet but Ian could see the shadow of his feet beneath the door.

“Hey Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I finish taking a dump in peace now?”

“I guess so.”

Ian sighed as he watched Mickey's shadow disappear. They really should have had a talk about this before going straight for it. But how could he resist when Mickey had asked him to? He was more afraid than anything, that if he hadn't, Mickey would have changed his mind, and he had no clue if he'd ever come around again.

Ian had only just found him after so long and he wasn't about to lose him again.

No matter what.

\----

It had been two weeks since they had sealed the deal. Ian didn't know about Mickey, but he couldn't really say he felt any different now that he had been bound to someone for the rest of his life.

The only thing he felt was insanely happy, because Mickey hadn't shown any signs of regret so far.

He was watching Mickey watch some late-night reality show while he pretended he was writing and not staring. There was something bothering him about Mickey's behaviour as the days went by.

He had refused to go to his old apartment to move his stuff into Ian's, and though Ian had to do all the packing, Mickey insisted he would do the unpacking, and then just let the boxes and covered canvases sit there. He also ignored all of Sheila’s calls and didn't go down to the art studio to sell his art, even though he hadn't gone since before he had become sick.

He never wanted to go out to eat, or even for a walk, or do anything at all and the more Ian sat there and thought about it, the last time Mickey had been out of the flat had been when they'd gone to the dinner.

Maybe he was overreacting and assessing things wrong.

“I'm bored,” he said.

“Congratulations,” Mickey replied.

“Seriously, let's go out.”

“M’tired.”

“You slept all day.”

“Sleeping makes me tired!”

“Mickey…” Mickey looked over at him. “I wanna go out.”

“Then go.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“I'm not going to run away while you're gone.”

“Didn't say you were. Is it so bad that I want to go out and treat my mate to a decent dinner?”

There it was. Mickey visibly flinched at the word ‘mate’, and though he hadn't done so before, Ian knew right away that Mickey had some doubts and he was manifesting them in a strange way. Not going out or wanting to do the things he did before Ian had come back into his life.

“What is this about really?” Mickey asked him. Ian felt that he should have been the one asking that.

“Exactly what I said. I want to take you out.”

“I'm just not in the mood.”

Ian didn't want to accept his answer. Ian wanted to be able to dispel Mickey's doubts but he knew if he brought it up directly, Mickey would just deny it all and they won't get anywhere.

He just needed to get the omega out of the apartment, to break this unhealthy state he was in. Then, whatever happens, can be dealt with accordingly.

“Get dressed.”

“I told you, I'm not in the mood to go out.”

“I'm not asking anymore, Mickey.”

Mickey's indifference didn't falter, but he did get up, to Ian's relief, and went toward the bedroom.

Ian sighed and tilted his head back against his chair. He saved his work and closed his computer and took a few minutes to gather his composure and think about how he should deal with this before he too got up to go and change.

\----

Once Mickey had climbed out of the window and leisurely made his way down the fire escape, he looked up and down the street with a big sigh.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go out. Nor that he didn't want to go out with Ian. Though, he knew that's probably what it looked like to his mate. He was just having trouble coming to terms with all of it. Or really, he was just confused. He felt the same. Not even the slightest bit different. He had always assumed that everything in the world would change. Colours would become more vibrant, the sun would shine brighter, and maybe he wouldn't feel so lost anymore.

None of that happened.

The city was grey. It was definitely going to start raining at anytime. And he still didn't feel like he had a place in the world to call his own.

But he had always been lost. Anytime he felt like he was starting to belong, it all got fucked over, and he knew it was always his fault. He was the one who had run away, been dumb enough to get caught, only to run away again, and now he'd let Ian claim him just because Mary had said a few words to him.

_Just let him make you happy._

He had no doubt that Ian could make him happy. He knew, though, he could never make Ian happy. Ian was too good for him. He didn't deserve the love Ian had for him and yet he'd used that to get Ian to bite him and now Ian was stuck.

If Ian ever got sick of his shit—and he knew that was bound to happen, no matter how many times Ian said it wouldn't—he didn't know if he could stand that. If Ian ever found out about the miscarriage…

He was relieved that their mating hadn't resulted in a pregnancy, likely the cause of all the shitty suppressants he'd been taking not having been completely dispelled from his body at that point. They hadn't fucked since, but Mickey knew his heat would be coming soon. He knew the signs, from before he had started taking suppressants. Lack of appetite, random spikes in irritability, and soreness in his back and joints.

He felt like an old man, scowling as he made his way down the street. He knew that the closest omega services clinic was just a couple of blocks away from Ian's apartment. Now that he had the mark on his neck to prove that he belonged to someone, they couldn't refuse him suppressants, right?

Wrong.

The beta man at the counter looked him up and down once, and without even the decency of making eye contact, refused his request.

“Is that a joke?”

“You need permission.”

“What I _need_ , is for you to do your _job_ and—”

“I am doing my job. I need written consent from your mate otherwise I can't give you any kind of contraceptive.” He gave Mickey a form. “Have your alpha or beta sign this and bring it back, preferably with them accompanying you.”

“Actually,” an arm dropped over Mickey's shoulder, “I'm right here. Where do I need to sign?”

Mickey didn't look up. Mostly out of guilt, slightly out of embarrassment at having been caught. He was surprised. Not that Ian had followed him, he knew that would happen. Now that they were mated, Ian could follow his scent anywhere. He was surprised because he had assumed that Ian wouldn't be happy with this. He didn't expect for him to just show up and sign for him, but instead to get pissed and drag him out of there.

“Can we schedule a regular check up as well? He just recently became sick because of suppressants and I want to know if it's safe for him to continue before he takes any more.”

“We have a free slot right now.”

“Perfect.” Ian's removed his arm off Mickey's shoulders and gripped his fingers instead.

Mickey wanted to protest. He was feeling better and it wasn't _fair_. Ian couldn't just swoop in and make all his decisions for him. Then he realized, Ian was his alpha now, and he could do exactly that.

The main reason he kept silent was that Ian still seemed to be on his side. Ian wasn’t denying him suppressants, he just wanted to make sure Mickey wouldn’t get sick again. Mickey knew that. So he'd put up with the dumb checkup to appease Ian and get the suppressants. He gritted his teeth at the sight of the alpha doctor but Ian just pulled him through the door and guided him to the examination table.

“Want me to stay?”

 _Yes_.

“You don't have to.”

Ian rolled his eyes, keeping Mickey's hand tightly in his own.

Mickey didn't talk as the doctor did the checkup and the only conversation was between the doctor and Ian, as Ian described Mickey's previous symptoms.

            After the doctor had been poking and prodding him for far longer than he would have preferred, finally the doctor took a blood sample and they were done.

            “So the results should arrive in a few days. We’ll give you a call when they do and we can decide then whether suppressants are right for your omega.”

            “And until then?” Mickey asked, abruptly.

            The doctor looked down at him properly for the first time since he had walked into the examination room.

            “I don't understand.”

            “I'll still get some now right?”

            The doctor looked away from him and at Ian.

            “It's advisable to not take any until we know for sure that he's in the clear. I can tell he's close to his heat so if you would really prefer to not deal with that nuisance we could provide some specifically for when his heat starts and he'd just have to take more when he feels it starting to come back until it's over. Again, not advisable. But you could also just drop him off here and we can keep him unconscious for the entirety of his heat.”

            Mickey's anger surged. The only thing keeping him from lunging for the doctor’s throat for talking about him as if he wasn't there was the fact that despite Ian's face showing no recognition of how offensive the doctor's advice was, his grip on Mickey's fingers was now just short of being tight enough to snap them. He knew Ian was angry too.

            But Ian was far better at keeping his composure than Mickey. So while Mickey glared at the doctor, wishing that the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ wasn't just something people said, Ian politely declined both options.

            “We’ll manage, right Mick?”

Mickey gave no semblance of confirmation or denial. Now, he was just thinking that this was a stupid idea. He realized he could just have asked Ian to bring him here right after they had become mates, instead of trying to sneak away. Then, maybe, he would have already been back on suppressants by now and wouldn't have to think about how this was going to go. His first time spending his heat with someone he actually cared about, his first heat with Ian.

He had been thinking about it since the day Ian had walked in on him rutting against his mattress. Ever since he had first begged Ian to fuck him.

If someone told him then, that this is how things would have ended up being, he would have asked Ian to claim him the first time they had fucked. Because then, he would have had no reason to run.

This isn't how he wanted it to happen. Not while he was doubting himself, not while he could barely recognize himself.

Not while he was lying to Ian.

During the time that he was recalling all the stupid decisions that he had made to end up in such a complicated mess, they arrived back at the apartment.

Again, he was surprised. There was no lecture from Ian, no accusations about running away or going behind his back to get suppressants that Ian had explicitly told him he couldn't take, back when Ian’s sister had checked up on him. He had never exactly been one to do as he was told, and he knew that Ian was aware of that—when he’d very maturely spoken to Ian through the bathroom door, he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to change, and Ian had said that was okay—but mated omegas had a certain… expectation. An expectation to be disciplined, compliant, submissive.

Obedient.

Mickey didn't know why he had been born an omega if he would grow up to be none of those things.

Like most alphas, Ian was probably fuming, and as always Mickey marveled at his composure.

\----

            For the next two days, Ian said nothing about Mickey's disobedience, or his childish habit of refusing to do anything he didn't want to. How stubborn Mickey could be, amazed Ian every time he had to deal with it. Considering the sacrifices that Mickey had to make to be living the way he had been living for the past few years, it made no sense that he was always so adamant about having things his way and getting what he wanted, and refusing to ever ask anyone for help.

            Well, it did sort of make sense.

            If Mickey ever wanted anything, he had to get it himself. He didn't know how to ask for help, or accept it when it was offered, because that practically never happened. So Ian could understand—or at least he could try to—that Mickey would have trouble adjusting to a life of safety and stability, and that he'd have trouble coming to terms with the fact that Ian was ready to give him whatever he wanted.

All he had to do was say it.

This was an adjustment for both of them, though. Ian didn't know what he was doing anymore than Mickey did. Even though he was pretty sure he knew how Mickey clicked, a lot of things had changed, both were set in their ways.

            Ian knew he should have offered to take Mickey to the clinic after they had mated, because he knew that Mickey had been taking suppressants for a long time. Contraceptives were a safety net for omegas, since they couldn't control their heats nor did they ever ask to have them in the first place. Not having that safety net, Ian realized, was probably one of the reasons Mickey had been acting strangely—not wanting to go out, or ignoring his belongings and his art—as well as what Ian had been feeling as well on how the claim changed everything, yet it felt like it had changed nothing.

            Ian wanted stability for Mickey, and so he didn't say anything. Even though he had been almost blinded by anger when he walked into the bedroom only to find the window open and Mickey gone. When he walked into the clinic and saw Mickey struggling at the counter with the uninterested beta, he was overcome with guilt for feeling angry at all. After all, Ian was getting exactly what he wanted—Mickey—and the more he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure what Mickey was getting out of the situation.

            Sure, Mickey was safer, now that he was mated. But he wasn't happy.

            Ian felt selfish. He shouldn't have rushed their mating. He should have sat Mickey down and they should have had a proper conversation about it before doing anything. Even if no one could take Mickey away from him now, nor could Mickey leave, whether or not he wanted to, they should have _talked_. After all, communication is the key to all relationships.

            They both had heavy things to confess to each other.

            They both had secrets. But the thing was, that Ian already knew Mickey's secret, and the omega was clueless as ever.

            But if they wanted things to work out, for them to truly make each other happy, one of them would have to confess, and Ian knows it should be him. As the alpha, he should take the burden from his omega.

            Once again guilt rises up his throat, threatening to spill out, as he makes another selfish decision, watching Mickey's sleeping face. He wants to know how much trust Mickey has in him, how much trust Mickey has in Ian's love. So he decides he's going to wait for Mickey to confess first. Hopefully, that happens before the two of them are too far gone to repair themselves, but Ian promises himself, and Mickey, that he won't let it go that far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello?
> 
> *echoes* Hello?
> 
> Is anybody still there?
> 
> *echoes* Is anybody still there?
> 
> No? Oh, well. That's what I get for disappearing for four months.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have anything you'd like to see, either as a part of this story, or separately, let me know.


End file.
